


A Carried Hope

by stillwaitingforaliens



Series: Arrow of Carnations [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude catches feelings, F/M, I proofread but I have no beta so..., appearances or mentions of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillwaitingforaliens/pseuds/stillwaitingforaliens
Summary: Claude had a plan. One professor changed it, and her presence still lingers.Claude's perspective of "Felt not Spelt", covering the academy days and into the years of the timeskip.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Arrow of Carnations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533914
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	A Carried Hope

**Author's Note:**

> And we're back at _Arrow of Carnations_. This probably will make the most sense if you've read ["Felt not Spelt"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278492/chapters/50665445), but it's not mandatory.

> “Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages.” Neil Gaiman,  _ The Kindly Ones  _

* * *

The moon and stars hang in the clear sky, no cloud cover helping trap the heat of the day, ever so slightly. A shadow passes over a chunk of them, a black splotch that crosses the sky. Dawn is but an hour off, and the man on watch for a band of roving thieves watches the shadow heading west. He notes it and thinks nothing of it. Anyone headed west is headed to either the Empire and doesn’t care about their little tribe, or is an idiot for heading towards the remains of Garreg Mach.

Fifteen minutes to dawn, and a wyvern alights on the grounds of the monastery. Garreg Mach is frozen. Not only by the cold winds blowing in from the north, but frozen by time, seemingly untouched since its destruction almost five years ago. For the Ethereal Moon, it isn’t too snowy. Drifts of packed snow sit on the north side of the buildings, and the majority of the other four directions are only a little slick with patchy ice. If one picked their way carefully around, they would succeed in navigating the monastery with minimal risk of a fall. 

The rider dismounts and pats the neck of the beast, feeding her a morsel of her favorite treat. “Stay here, ok, girl?” The wyvern knocks her head against her rider. “Alright. I’ll head off.” He turns and starts walking away. The wyvern folds her legs and lays on the ground, wings tucked for warmth. 

Claude von Reigan climbs the steps of the Goddess Tower, hoping for a second miracle.

* * *

* * *

He would never lie, finding those mercenaries, finding her, was incredibly fortunate. In the months and years to come, he’d come to classify it as a miracle, the first of many Claude would associate with her, Byleth Eisner. 

She saved their lives with her actions. 

In the moments that followed the skirmish, Edelgard and Dimitri tried to buy her sword. As a mercenary, it must have been commonplace for her, it was tempting for him too. The woman was skilled, very much so. She was someone he could see being of use in his plans, so he used a different approach: convincing her of his interest, his friendship.

“Trying to recruit someone you just met. Tactless, really,” Claude chided his fellow students. “I was personally planning on developing a deep and lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favors.” He did care, she was an interesting person, and there was a point in learning who his potential allies and assets were, but it didn’t go beyond that. Not then. He gave her his most charming smile. 

Their travels back to the monastery gave him time to discern more about this strange woman. She gave her name, but little else, holding her cards close to her chest. He could respect that, but it was frustrating that she didn’t speak much and barely emoted. There were some things he was able to gather: her sheer physical strength and an incredible strength of will she seemed to inherit from her father, and her loose connection to the church as her father kept talking with the captain of the Knights, Alois.

And her eyes. They may have been giving a blank, thousand yard stare the whole time, but something lurked deep underneath the surface. He wondered if it was the same loneliness he had felt for so much of his life. And when she looked at him, her head tilted just a few degrees and her brows barely furrowed, there was something beautiful about it. 

She’d be a tough puzzle to crack, but he was already looking forward to the chance to try. 

* * *

Everyday, she taught them. Claude sat at the front of the room and watched. There was no harm in watching, right? He could take in the sights, right? She was quite pretty and nothing would ever come of a little bit of gazing at the teacher, right?

She wasn’t the best marksman, and he taught her almost as much as she taught him. Teach would drill the “trick shot nonsense” out of him, forcing him to master the minutiae of the basics.

It was driving him crazy until she approached him.

“How do you get your shots to do that?” 

It wasn’t even a fancy trick, just one he could do very well. “You don’t know how?”

She shook her head. “I’ve tried and I’m horrible."

“Alright, show me what you’ve got.” 

He wasn't sure if she was lying when she said she couldn't make the shot or if she was being harsh on her bow skills compared to those she had with a sword, but she wasn't bad. Unrefined and a little sloppy, yes, but she wasn't bad.

For the next hour, he gave her tips and encouragement. Mostly, he’d demonstrate proper technique and she’d follow. But sometimes, to help her get the details, he’d have no choice but to touch her to correct her. 

He thanked whatever god cared that she focused downrange and not on his face, or she would see his blush.

* * *

When he woke up, a face hovering over his, it took his brain too long to process what he was seeing. A furrowed brow. Mouth pressed into a thin line. Watering blue eyes. The dark hair that hung in messy layers. 

It was his teacher. She was so distressed. Panicked. Worried.

“Hey, Teach.” He smiled at her. “So that was a Demonic Beast? I expected one to spit acid and be on fire. What a disappointment.” 

Claude sat up and chatted with his excited classmates, telling them they did a good job and that nothing stood a chance against the Golden Deer.

She was off in her own world as he approached a short while later. “Don’t worry about me, Teach. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

She looked back at him, worry on her face, etching itself into her forehead. “But…”

He met his teacher’s worried eyes. “I know you were scared,” he says quietly, trying to avoid drawing the attention of the other students. This is the closest any of them had come to dying. “Honestly, if I saw the same happen to you, I’d...well, I’d be scared, too. I wouldn’t want to lose my favorite professor!” He smiled at her, trying to lighten her mood.

“And I don’t want to lose any of my favorite students.” She looked so scared. This stoic woman who hadn’t flinched at all in the seven months he knew her, who never showed a single emotion, looked so scared and nervous. 

“You won’t,” he reassured her. He’d see to it that she never lost another student again.

* * *

It was a preposterous idea that he could prevent any more close calls, but Claude took the initiative of encouraging the class through even more drills. He sought out extra missions that the knights needed help with and brought them to Teach’s attention. None of them were difficult, instead, he found small things that could get them more experience on the battlefield and bring them more confidence. She saw them as chances to try new strategies and encouraged the Golden Deer to participate.

He would stay after class to discuss plans with her. She’d nod at his better ideas, direct his schemes into strategy. 

Sometimes, they’d talk about things other than strategy and plans and how to mix skill sets. She took an interest in him as a person, and he found himself talking too much to her, telling her things no one knew about his past, how he’d been an outsider, how lonely he’d been. 

“People have tried to  _ kill _ you?” Teach’s mouth was open, her disbelief echoing in the empty classroom.

“Unfortunately, yes. I don’t believe I’ve earned such treatment, but that’s how it goes for people like me.”

“I don’t think of you as an outsider.” 

The way she looked at him, his heart skipped a beat. He ignored it.

* * *

It only got worse over the course of the month. His spot in the front of the classroom became too opportune, and what had been simple infatuation became a full blown crush. Sylvain would make flirtatious comments from the row behind him, and Claude would feel his gut twist. 

He tried to not let it get to him, keeping a respectful distance most of the time, even going so far as trying to keep Teach on the other side of the table during their strategy talks. But she’d sidle up next to him anyway and move the pieces on his side of the map with her hands instead of the slider. He’d get another student to spar with her when they all went to training.

Despite all his best efforts, he found he wanted to make her smile. Every time her lips curved upward in the slightest because of him made him want to do it again. Claude went from answering only when he felt like it, to answering every question he could, hoping for a glimpse of that smile.

He had to get this under control. Teach, wielding her Relic and already pledged to his “noble dream”, was supposed to be yet another pawn (ok, maybe a bishop) in his plan, a tool for him to use, but he found himself making even more flirtatious comments than usual, as if Sylvain’s totally hollow comments had gotten under his skin and he needed to compete.

She looked so pretty that night he hadn’t been able to resist. Dimitri and Edelgard were already out on the floor stepping in circles, and his teacher was standing not far from him on his left, in a long gray dress that accented her strong shoulders and muscular arms. One of the girls had convinced her to sweep her hair up into a bun and wear what he assumed was a hint of makeup because her eyes were even more piercing and her lips slightly pinker. He was supposed to be out dancing with the other House Leaders anyway, so he took her hand with a wink and led her out onto the floor. 

Her smile as he swept her around in a circle sent his heart fluttering again. 

Claude excused himself shortly after, claiming to need some fresh air. Hilda glanced between him and where their professor was dancing with Sylvain. He ignored her and walked out of the hall. His collar felt too tight and he undid it from regulation, unbuttoning it all the way down to its usual spot. His steps took him to the Goddess Tower before he realized what he was doing. In all honesty, it was the last place he wanted to be in case he came across couples making vows to each other, but it was blessedly empty. 

He took the opportunity to look at the stars and find the constellations, both sets. The music filtered up faintly and the party sounded like it was still in full swing, so it was a surprise to hear the click of shoes ascending the stairs. He could just make out the top of her head when he turned.

Their small talk turned serious as he asked her to pray for their ambitions to come true, then slipped into something even more intimate when he led them into their third dance of the night. Claude hummed a song he knew well and pulled her as close as he dared. She was freezing and every instinct told him to warm her up. He debated offering her his jacket, because her hands were like ice. She relaxed into him, her head actually resting on his shoulder. She felt so good in his arms, like she was meant to be there.

She looked at him with wide, honest, blue eyes and he was a goner. There was no way he’d ever be able to send that face into a battle purely for the utilitarian purposes of it. There was no way she could be just a piece on his chessboard. He asked her, more formally than before, to share in his ambitions and be a part of his dreams.

“I made a promise to you in the library. I intend to keep it. I just hope you can tell me what this dream is.” 

He wanted to spill everything, there and then. He wanted to tell the truth of everything, but he couldn’t. Not then. There were too many pieces that needed to fall in place just yet. “I will. Now isn’t the time, though, Teach,” he promised. He wanted to, but refrained from pulling her even closer until she was flush with him.

* * *

Claude let Teach cry on his shoulder. He felt her heartbreak. He wanted nothing more than to bring a smile like the one that had been on her face as they swirled around the dance floor. The whole class did, so on her first day back, they presented her with a tin of her favorite tea and some flowers arranged by Hilda. She smiled a small smile and thanked them.

In the quiet of a night piecing together the mysteries of the church and those of her past, he spilled more secrets and felt the emptiness of her chest. Her sweater was thick, but soft under his palm. He wondered what her hair would feel like if he ran his fingers through it. He pointed out one of the constellations of Almyra to her that night, pressed up behind her, one hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him ever so slightly, and he added it to the list of moments he didn’t want to forget.

Class became both more and less manageable when he knew that they’d share time over a cup of tea and the journal later. He’d get another chance.

Except he almost didn’t, and it’s only when Byleth was gone that he realized what she came to mean. 

He tried not to waste time after that. He kept it discreet, yes, but sat closer during their little sessions of tea over her father’s journal, and left more daisies and forget-me-nots at her door once. When she asked for one of his secrets in exchange for passing the journal back to him, Claude told her she was beautiful. 

She blushed up to the tips of her ears, and then looked at her feet. He had gotten the Ashen Demon flustered.

* * *

Claude picked the lock to her room and waited. And waited. And waited. The moon was high in the sky when she walked in and began divesting herself of her armor. 

“Wait! Stop!”

Her eyes fell to his swollen, bandaged forearm and he shifted under her gaze. 

Byleth reprimanded him for his behavior, but he was more worried about her. There were bags under her eyes, dark circles that matched Marianne’s. She started taking off more armor, walking towards her wardrobe.

“I’ll...I’m gonna…” He turned away and screwed his eyes shut. “I should leave.” He couldn't do this. Oh, stars and spirits, he couldn't do this. His crush taking off her armor next to him would be fuel for the raging fire burning deep in his heart. He didn't want that fire to grow bigger, or he might do something even stupider. And the sounds would be permanently in his brain, and he didn't need that added to his collection. 

Her voice carried all her exhaustion. “Don’t bother, it's just my armor. We should probably talk, anyway.”

They didn’t get in much of a talk that night. In fact, they didn’t get much of a chance to talk until the Empire was knocking on the door.

* * *

“None of those words quite capture what you've come to mean to me. We may not be connected by blood, but I believe our bond goes deeper than that. Now that we know each other, our hearts are connected. Even if our paths diverge and we're forced to say good-bye... I know that we'll meet again. And so, for lack of a better word, I gratefully call you my friend, and I hold fast to the belief that this isn't it for us. No matter who or what you really are, I'll always be on your side. You can't count on much in this world, but you can count on that.” Claude spilled his heart in the hall of Garreg Mach. He didn’t know what her reaction would be. Would his teacher continue to try to maintain the outward appearance of their professional relationship? Would she meet his words with her own declaration?

Byleth barreling into him and wrapping her arms tightly around him was a pleasant surprise. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want something like that to happen, but he really didn’t know what to expect. She clung to him like the last scrap of light in a dark world. He brought his arms around her and squeezed her even closer. Her hair tickled as he pressed his face against it. She promised him she’d return.

* * *

The silence was thick and full of dread in the days following the battle. The Blue Lions headed back to the Kingdom. Annette clung to Felix's sleeve, and he went along instead of brushing her away as he would most people. Mercedes wished Claude a tearful farewell, promising her prayers. The poor Black Eagles remaining seemed lost, many of them unsure what to do, questioning whether returning to their former homes, when they sided against their emperor, was prudent or not.

Lorenz and Hilda gathered the Deer. It took the better part of two weeks to arrive at Deirdriu. Ignatz and Marianne kept sobbing. Leonie looked almost numb the whole time. Claude kept a stiff smile on his face and did his best to keep the mood light, an impossible task considering what happened. Judith greeted the last of them when they arrived at the capital, word of the fall of Garreg Mach having spread faster than their feet moved. She arranged for transport for everyone and when they finally returned to their respective hometowns, she left Claude alone for two whole days while he processed what had happened.

His logical brain said that she was gone, but his heart wouldn’t stop holding onto hope. A hope beyond hope. Byleth, the miracle she was, crafted by the gods and sent directly to him, would return because miracles didn’t just  _ end _ like that. But being alone while the world collapsed just outside of the Alliance borders made the loneliness incredibly acute. He shed many tears, but when your entire world gets tipped upside down, tears are inevitable. He drank whole pitchers of water from how many tears he cried.

His grandfather came to console him as best he could, and Claude wanted to beg to go home. Home where  _ baba _ and  _ maman _ were. Where his mother would make him tea and listen to his stories. Where all the love flowed, and he had one friend who could play  _ Endelin _ and could distract him. Just for a week or two. Three at most. Enough time to get his feet under him.

The words were almost out of his mouth when his grandfather collapsed. 

* * *

When his grandfather died just a few months later, Claude had no time to mourn. He barely had a chance to breathe. Not that he particularly had much to mourn about the old man he barely knew. No, he was thrown into leading the Alliance, ten families who were all too glad to bicker endlessly about whether or not he was fit to lead. 

He had to prove them wrong immediately. He sent a letter asking for Nader to return, but it was hours of grueling work, hunched over maps and records, making plans by candlelight, and little sleep before his friend would arrive. He found himself wanting Byleth’s advice, wishing she was at his side to bounce ideas off of. He missed her presence in his life. One night, as the oil in the lamp started to burn low, and he rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, he swore he saw a pale hand enter his vision and rest on one of the records. When he blinked, it was gone again, but he picked up the sheet anyway and read it with new resolve. 

Claude would sometimes ask himself what Byleth would do, what she might think in a situation. Noble infighting? How would she approach it? The entirety of House Gloucester defecting to the Empire? What would her reaction be? What would she talk about over breakfast? How would she approach the stream of refugees from the Kingdom that were getting turned away from Gloucester lands, forcing them to take more dangerous paths through the mountains?

Hilda found him when all the Houses were visiting for a Roundtable conference. She burst right into his office, charming her way past the guard. 

“Hey, Claude!”

“Hilda.”

“Don’t ‘Hilda’ me.” She settled in one of the office chairs. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, please.” She waved her hand dismissively. “My father and brother wanted me to come. How have you been?” Her tone moved from carefree to concerned. 

“I’m exhausted.” He slumped in his chair.

“I can tell. But I was asking more about...how you’ve been dealing with...our loss.” 

He glared. 

“Claude, you can’t ignore it. Here, I’ll get some tea, and you can just talk to me. Like we did back then.” She poked her head back out the door and called for the supplies. 

Hilda didn’t try to pry too deep, but he was thankful he could finally talk to someone who would understand about Byleth and his feelings. They talked for more than an hour, the teacups long since empty and cold. 

Claude missed her terribly during that conference. Byleth would have been such an asset to have at his side, her mind would have picked up different details and come to different conclusions that would have been useful. Not only an asset, she would have been a welcome distraction in the evening. Talking over tea, battling over a board game, maybe something else.

* * *

Years passed. Pretty girls from various Houses came in attempts to marry him. Claude entertained one very successful merchant’s daughter for long enough that he had to let her down gently. He regretted leading her on, but she was very sweet and smart enough to match wits with him. She read constantly and had some mild abilities with white magic. From the warm undertones tones of skin and the beard her father wore, he gauged she even had distant Almyran ancestry, though she claimed Brigid as her mother’s heritage. She was so curious about Almyra she found every volume in the library to practice the language. The first time she spoke to Nader in a stumbling mess with a poor accent, his jaw had dropped. 

Had it not been for the ghost haunting him, he may have even considered marrying her. 

“Mariel, I can’t do this anymore.” He took her aside one day, after she had been around Deirdriu for almost eight months. She had been reading in a sunny window, and he honestly felt his heart breaking at what he was about to say. She didn't deserve it.

“What do you mean?” She didn’t look too distressed. She didn’t look excited either. Her expression was curious, if anything.

“I don't know how to put it, but it’s not fair to you.”

She snapped the book shut and grinned. “There’s someone else. I knew it.”

Claude blinked. “Of course you did.”

She shook her head, the messy indigo curls of her hair moving with the gesture. “How could I miss it? You look as if you’re haunted. You look at me as if I’m not even there sometimes.”

He laughed. “This. This is why I like you.”

“But you don’t love me. I can’t say I didn’t expect this,” Mariel sighed. “Who were they?”

“A lovely woman from the Academy.” She deserved to know that much.

“Is she gone?” She took his lack of answer as a yes. “I won’t lie, Claude, I like you. You're incredibly special to me. And I’d be willing to take second place in your heart, as stupid as it sounds. So if you ever feel it fair to me…” Her gray eyes sparkled with tears. He felt guilty for putting them there. He should have been over Byleth by now, but he couldn’t give up the hope that she was alive somewhere.

“I will seek you out. You have my word.” 

“Thank you, Claude.” She rose and kissed his cheek. “If your dream woman ever does come and find you, please let me know. I’d like to meet her.” 

“Mariel, may you find a man worthy of your talents.” He hugged her, warm and friendly. “In fact, I forbid you to marry anyone unworthy of you.” The idea of her wasting her life away with a boring man made him cringe. 

“A direct order from Duke Reigen, Leader of the Alliance? I must follow it, I suppose.” Her smile was sad. “Until later, then, my friend?”

“Until later, Mariel.”

She curtsied and left. 

* * *

The war continued outside the Alliance’s borders, and the nobles kept bickering. Claude tried to hold the Alliance together and keep everyone but House Gloucester out of the war. The nobles started to side with either Claude or Count Gloucester in regards to what they should do. The constant bickering left him wishing more than once that he hadn’t let Mariel go, because her company would have been preferable to the crushing loneliness. Nardel was a good man, but sometimes, he missed her presence over a cup of tea and a game. She brought a unique perspective that made her unreasonably well suited for his friendship.

Hilda wrote him occasional letters, checking in on him. She spent much of them complaining about the men that came seeking to marry her. She was exceedingly bored, by the sound of it, so he invited her to visit just to get her out of her brother’s hair. 

Mariel's father moved back to the capital, returning Mariel to his life, and more importantly, he brought Mateo, her brother. Mateo was whip smart, astute, and kept secrets even better than his sister. He had talent with both the bow and the sword. The pair forced him to take a day off for a picnic and several games of Six Star. Mariel made a wreath of flowers as a prize for an impromptu archery tournament between the two men. Claude won, but she declared herself the winner, because "the only real winner here is the one who gets to enjoy two shows of such skill". Hilda arrived two days later, and she and Mariel became well acquainted over tea and innocent gossip. Claude intruded on one of their conversations in the western garden, and they grew silent at his entry, then burst out laughing.

“What? Something on my face?”

They only laughed harder. Mariel snorted in an unladylike way that made Hilda nearly fall out of her chair. Nader and Mateo told him not to worry about it, that it was just the way girls were. 

Mateo and Mariel became permanent fixtures in Derdriu. Mariel practically lived in the library, spending about half her time looking up information on his behalf, and, after some time, Claude invited Mateo to his inner circle as an advisor. He had people to spend his off hours with, and Mateo was twice as loyal as Mariel, if that was even possible. Between the siblings, Nader, and himself, problems were smaller and more manageable. 

At least, until he slept in the big bed at night and felt cold and empty.

The Ethereal Moon of 1185 snuck up on him. He told his aides that he must leave on a short trip, but he was unsure when he would return. They objected, but he said, “I put my full faith in your abilities. Nardel will take charge while I'm away. I will return, but there’s something I must attend.” He mounted and flew off. 

Mariel’s shout reached him as he climbed into the sky, “I hope she’s there!” 

The days of travel exhilarated him. It was nice to be out of the endless meetings and in the open air, camping at night in forests, or spending the night in a cheap inn. 

As he got closer to his destination, the emotions got the better of him. He was forced to land in the middle of the day once, just to cry out his fears and sadness. He buried the fear underneath the hope he clung to, the one that kept him alive some days.

* * *

* * *

The sun is just rising, its rays just beginning to illuminate the hills and his face. There’s still a whole day for anyone to show up, but there are no signs of any of his old classmates arriving. Some rubble gets shifted nearby, but Claude blames it on a wild animal or random bandit. 

And then he hears it. 

_ Click. Click. Click. Click.  _ An even rhythm of steps. The sound is nostalgic, reminding him of dances he never should have shared, but treasures the memory of so dearly. He recalls the way she felt in his arms. A tear gathers in his eye. 

He turns in time to see the person climbing the steps emerge. Byleth is unchanged by the years, and as beautiful as he remembers. Her eyes, that shade of glass green; her hair soft around her shoulders. It would feel the same as it did the day she collapsed in the grass after defeating Solon. There’s another tear now, and he smiles. “You overslept, Teach. Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that, wouldn’t you say?”

He’s home.

* * *

> “When someone is in your heart, they’re never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times.” Mitch Alborn,  _ For One More Day _

**Author's Note:**

> You can always follow my [tumblr](https://writingforaliens.tumblr.com/) for writing previews, my rants, my doodles, and hijinks.


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